


White Headphone Cord Of Fate

by retrogaymer



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: (Literally Haha), Alternate Universe - No Squip, Autistic Jeremy Heere, Autistic Meltdown, Depression, Grief/Mourning, Hate Crimes, Heavy Angst, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Michael Mell Is An Angel, Murder, References to Alcohol, References to Underage Drinking, Suicidal Thoughts, Tags May Change, Texting, Warnings May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-04-17 07:46:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14184246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/retrogaymer/pseuds/retrogaymer
Summary: It had been three months since Michael Mell died.It had also been three months since Jeremy went to school, and brushed his teeth, and slept normally, and had gone a full day without crying.





	1. Chapter 1

Broken white headphones.

They were all Jeremy kept coming back to; pressing against his one cheek while the other felt Michael's equally cold neck, the difference between the feeling of the plastic and the tan skin scarily small. 

They were all he could see as he was being hauled away - the rest of Michael's face too blurry and dark in comparison to the pristine white, only dirtied by the few drops of blood that had made it onto the white headphones cracked in half.

Jeremy clutched the white cord in his hands tightly - ran his fingers along it, curled it and uncurled it, pressed the volume and pause buttons, felt every single crevice and texture of it. 

_ “See you later,” _ Jeremy had said, as he was leaving Michael's house early sunday morning. Michael had grinned, fingergunned at him from where he was leaned in the doorframe.

_ “Bye!” _

Jeremy wished he had never left. No matter how much Michael might have tried to convince him to - wished he had stayed, pinned Michael to the bed, refused to let him get up, refused to let him go outside where it seemed like the whole world was against them. Where the world proved that it hated them, over and over.

It had been three months since Michael Mell died.

It had also been three months since Jeremy went to school, and brushed his teeth, and slept normally, and had gone a full day without crying.

It had been a month and a half since Jeremy last showered.

It had been a week since he last ate. 

Two days since he last drank something.

Zero hours since he last thought about joining Michael in the grave. 

It was a constant nagging need in his mind, to go join his best friend on the rainbow bridge and play games with him for the rest of all eternity in the afterlife, or whatever else Michael and his heaven would be.

Michael was buried in the deep red tuxedo he was supposed to go to prom in.

Jeremy put his copy of Apocalypse Of The Damned in the coffin with him. Tucked it in by his arm. Restrained himself from crawling inside, laying down right next to him and wrapping his arms around him and never leaving ever again. 

He would be content with getting buried alive if he was next to Michael while it happened.

People always said what hurt the most was that it just looked like their loved ones were sleeping; like they could wake up at any moment. Jeremy didn't feel like that applied there at all. Michael was  _ always _ moving, even when he was asleep - he would toss and turn and mutter incoherent nonsense and elbow Jeremy in the face. Michael moving was a fundamental rule of the universe, until it wasn't. Until it was broken by the same people that broke his headphones.

Broken white headphones.

Purple bruises.

Cold skin.

Blood.

Blue neck.

Broken nose.

Broken glasses.

_ Broken white headphones. _

“Jeremy?”

Jeremy’s head snapped up from the headphone cord he was fiddling with, landed his eyes on his dad, in the doorway to his room. He looked so pitying, it made Jeremy’s skin crawl. He gave Jeremy a gentle smile, a smile that didn't reach his eyes. “Just wanted to know what you were thinking for dinner.”

Jeremy looked down again, at his crossed legs and the thick white wire snaking over them. “I don't know. Whatever, really. I'm not that hungry.”

His dad clicked his tongue. “...You said that yesterday, too. Been saying that all week, actually.”

“Yeah, well,” Jeremy sucked in a tight breath  _ (broken white headphones) _ and shrugged again. “Haven't been hungry all week.”

His dad went silent.

_ Please let it go. Please let it go. Please let it go. _

He stepped inside, closed the door behind him. Jeremy suppressed the urge to groan.

“Bud… We have to talk about this.”

Jeremy squirmed uncomfortably, leaned back against his headboard. “Why?”

His dad came closer, sat down on the opposite end of the bed. “Because this isn't healthy.”

“Not like I ate healthily before.”

“Not just your eating habits, Jeremy. I just - I want to help you so bad,” the sincerity of his father's voice stuck itself in Jeremy’s heart, made him clutch the white headphone cord again. “But to do that you have to… You have to let me. Have to help me help you. I know it's - It's horrible, it's a tragedy, but we have to move on. Or at least try to.”

Jeremy stayed silent. Tried to blink away the tears, failed horribly.

“Please. Please try with me, Jeremy. We can try together.”

Jeremy took a deep breath. Held it for a few seconds. Finally let it go in a sigh, his voice unstable and hoarse as he spoke. “Okay.”

He looked up again, and this time the smile was reaching his dads eyes. He shifted closer on the bed, pet Jeremy’s knee. “Great. First step is what you want for dinner.”

“I don't - “ Jeremy paused, barked out an empty laugh, “I actually genuinly do not know. I suck at picking food.”

His dad snorted, nodded. “Alright, I'll come up with something. But then you have to eat it, too. Even if it's just one small bite. Promise?”

Jeremy nodded. “Promise.”

“Great.” He squeezed his knee, paused. Pointed to the headphone cord. “What's that?”

Jeremy protectively rolled it up in one hand, out of sight, “video game controller stuff.”

He nodded, scratched at his beard - “we'll, I'll get out of your hair. I'll call for you when dinners ready.”

Jeremy nodded back. Watched his dad get up and leave the room, closing the door behind himself. He sighed, shuffled down to lie on his back, pulling the covers over him. Rolled over on his side, facing the wall, curled up so he could press his forehead against it. Pressed the white headphone cord to his chest and closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this hurts to write im not joking when i say i cried half of the time creating this
> 
> (spoiler alert though that "bye" isnt about to be the last time jeremy talks to michael)


	2. Chapter 2

_ “Hey, Jer - you know what's big and rhymes with butt?” _

_ Jeremy leaned into frame - gave the camera a look, then Michael, from where his head was now resting on his shoulder. “What?” _

_ Michael's head turned to Jeremy, a big grin on his face. “My love for you, bud.” _

_ Jeremy snorted, reached his hand up to card it through his best friends thick black hair. “Dork.” He paused. “Butt doesn't even rhyme with bud.” _

_ “WHAT! It TOTALLY does-” _

The instagram video cut off, briefly paused to load, then replayed. Jeremy didn't know how many views he was on, at this point. He had been watching it on repeat for at least an hour, unable to tear his eyes away from the screen, from Michael's loving brown eyes and big grin and squishy cheeks and dimples. Couldn't get enough of his melodic laugh, lightly raspy voice, soft tone.

Nobody knew Michael's instagram password, so they couldn't get the account deleted - except for Jeremy, of course. Jeremy was well aware, but pretended he wasn't, that it was on the tip of his tongue but not quite there yet - because deleting it felt so  _ real _ . 

He wasn't ready for it to feel that real yet. 

At least, not before he had downloaded every video and image off the account.

Which was exactly what he was currently trying to do; leg jittering anxiously underneath his desk as he went, but he kept getting stuck on every video. On every grin. On every brief glimpse into what their life used to be like, how wonderful it was, those four months ago. 

The audio kept cutting in and out, which Jeremy knew meant his headphones were too low battery to use the noise cancelling feature, but he didn't have the strength to go down and get new batteries. Yet, he still wanted to be enveloped in Michael's voice and laugh as much as possible, which was why he didn't just turn it off and use them like normal headphones.

After ten more replays, Jeremy thunked his head against his desk, groaning. The headphones slipped down and off at the impact, uncomfortably squishing his cheeks. He lifted his head again so they fell completely to the table, stared at the metallic blue. 

Stared at the cord.

He brought the white headphone cord up - he was playing with it under the table, it was second nature at this point - and pulled the blue one out of his headphones to compare, leaving the other end in his computer. They were exactly the same, of course - Michael had gotten him a matching set to his own white pair for his last birthday. He had made some joke about how he was tired of Jeremy always stealing his when they were out and about, so he had no other choice. Jeremy knew it really came from the heart, though. Everything did, with Michael.

Jeremy heaved a sigh.

They were on four months, now, since - since the  _ incident _ . It didn't hurt any less, but he was starting to function just a little better. He had actually left the house, for one. Granted, it was only to very quickly check the mail and then scurry back inside, but. Still. Little victories. He was also showering about once every other week, which was a drastic improvement compared to the months long hiatuses he was on before. Also: he was sitting at his desk! And had been so for the last few hours, instead of just laying around in his bed all day falling in and out of sleep. 

Maybe his reason for sitting at his desk wasn't the most healthy, but. He needed it. Desperately.

He looked back up at the screen again, where Michael was still telling Jeremy that he loved him, over and over - Jeremy checked to make sure he had downloaded it, then clicked onto the next one. An image; some photography of Michael's tan hand holding a red slushie to the sky, a cool contrast against the baby blue backdrop dotted with white clouds.

He was probably on his way to get a slushie. 

When it happened.

And just like that, Jeremy was back in bed, holding the white headphone cord to his chest while he buried his face in his pillow and screamed. 

After a few seconds he rolled over and started knocking himself on the head with a weak fist - anything to distract himself from those thoughts, the horrible vision, the broken white headphones. 

It only got worse and worse - he felt like he couldn't breathe through tears, vision whitening around the edges as he hyperventilated and sobbed and kicked his legs in frustration from all that he was  _ feeling. _

Anytime he started to feel okay, he would look back to the screen and start all over again.

Eventually, he rolled over, to face the wall instead, press his forehead against the cool bumpy surface, squeeze his eyes shut tight. He didn't care if he fell asleep or not, he just needed to face the other way long enough until his computer  _ did. _ He knew, logically, that it was set to do that after about half an hour - but he also didn't know how to put that in perspective. Didn't know anything about time in general, so he just stayed like that, for as long as he could. Pressed the volume buttons on the headphone cord in his hand.

Finally, he snuck a glance. 

The screen was black.

Thank  _ fuck. _

Jeremy got up, held down the power button until it shut down automatically, so he wouldn't have to be faced with the past yet again. Faced with Michael and how his stupid bad unhealthy eating habits broke his headphones.

Jeremy slumped back in his chair, simply because he didn't want to walk back to his bed. He pulled his phone close (who had been laying just as neglected on Jeremy’s desk as most of his electronics) and pressed the home button.

He paused.

The first thing he noticed was his lock screen, obviously, because it was  _ him and Michael _ \- but, to his luck, Michael's face was partially obscured by the frankly overwhelming amount of unread texts and notifications and missed calls. 

Jeremy unlocked his phone without checking any of them carefully, his background yet another best friend selfie which was obscured by apps, and reset both backdrops to the phones standard scenery. Now he was  _ slightly _ safe. 

Still couldn't open up his gallery yet, but, he'd get there.

He swiped down to view his notifications again, going through them one by one. Most of them weren't very personalized; just emails from whatever sites he was signed up for and tumblr notifications, some updates from the Facebook groups he was a part of. 

The text messages weren't that surprising either, they were all from his dad - questions Jeremy recognized he had then been asked in real life, when he never answered his phone. The missed calls were a similar ordeal.

When he got to his one messenger notification, he paused.

It was from Christine. Christine Canigula herself.

Jeremy didn't feel anything but dread. None of the usual excitement mixed in with the anxiety was there. It was pretty hard to keep crushing on someone when, whenever you thought about them, all you could envision was the scene of your dead best friend laying a few feet away from them while they're frozen in horror at the sight.

Jeremy shut his eyes tightly again. Clicked the white buttons. Took some deep breaths. 

When he opened his eyes again, he actually stayed calm for long enough to read the message.

Wait.

Messages. Multiple.

It turned out that she had written a lot; too much for Jeremy to just read in the preview. He bit at his lip, stared at the cut off sentences for a long time. Figured that he probably wouldn't be blamed too badly if he left her on read for some time, before finally responding. He pressed the notification so her chat head popped up, thrusting him into the digital social interaction.

-

16\. OCT 20XX, 12:32 PM

Jeremy im so so so sorry

If you need anybody to talk to even if its the simplest thing, doesnt even have to be about michael, please please please know that im here for you

This is so horrible

I hope youre alright

Thats stupid. of course youre not alright. I hope youll BE alright

I know were not like the tightest buds but i know enough to know how close you were and how much this must hurt and im here if you need a shoulder to cry on

God im. making this way worse huh

Im sorry

See you around jeremy

 

16\. OCT 20XX, 7:57 PM

OH AND DONT FEEL OBLIGATED TO RESPOND TO THIS!!!

Right away or Ever

Its just an offer but i wont be offended if you dont take it, i get it

 

21\. OCT 20XX, 6:13 PM

Hey

Everybodys wondering how long youll be gone for at school

And rich is. being an asshole about the boyf riends thing

Just thought you deserved to know!! because i sure would like to know what people were saying about me while i was gone

Its nothing bad. yet.

I know yet is a bad mindset to have but like

Were high schoolers lets be real here!!

If anything bad pops up ill tear down that rumor mill

Because i know youre not a bad guy

And you deserve that

 

31\. OCT 20XX, 3:55 PM

Happy halloween!!

Im Elphaba from Wicked

You were into musicals right?

Anyway. hope youre doing better

Missing your lanky presence in the halls ;P

 

7\. NOV 20XX, 2:18

Hey you remember how i added that ominous yet to how there werent any bad rumors about you??? i was right to!!

Well it wasnt really a rumor but

People were saying youre just lazy and using this as an opportunity to get out of school

And i told them to shut the hell up!!!!!!! because fuck them!!!!!!!!!!!!!

That may be harsh but i dont care

They dont know anything about grief or mourning or depression

Hope these messages arent getting annoying also. if you need me to shut you can tell me!!

 

21\. NOV 20XX, 4:13 PM

Christine back at it again with defending your honor

More of the lazy bs

 

21\. NOV 20XX, 6:48 PM

Im sorry but god theyre just

Theyre being such a dick about him it makes me so angry

“nobody could miss him that much lol” ill literally dropkick them

Im sorry jeremy

 

12\. DEC 20XX, 2:46

Hey happy hanukkah!! it starts today right??

(rhetorical question i wouldnt look it up 500 times before wishing you one)

 

1\. JAN, 00:00

HAPPY NEW YEARS!!!!!

 

SAT, 9:32 PM

Hey goof kinda tipsy kinda missing you a lot kinda dont know why sinve we never talked before but

Oh shit that coul be like

A song!!!

You:cries when drunk

Me an intellectual: writes sicksss rhymes

 

SUN, 12:56 PM

REGRET

 

7:46 PM

Christine

Youre an angel

 

8:11 PM

 

JEREMY

OMG

HOW ARE YOU!!!!!!

 

Pretty bad still haha

But

Your messages helped

Helps to know someone genuinely cares

 

Of course!!!!!!!

God im so happy to hear from you you dont even

Heck!!!!!!! do you need anything right now? like online or physical

Ill come over there and hug your ass if its what you need

Slamdunk you with cheetos and sprite

Cover you in peanut butter cups babey!!!!!!!!

 

Im good on the hugging for now

But thank you anyways

 

<3<3<3 of course!!

You specified only hugging though…… you want me to come over and supply snacks?

-

Jeremy paused, leaned back in his chair. He looked out of the window, between the gaps of his blinds.

Honestly. He missed human interaction, with somebody that wasn't his dad especially.

-

You know

Sure

My dads working late so

 

Gotcha!!!! hmu with your address and ill be there in a few

Whats your fav snack?

-

_ 7/11 slushies. _

-

Dont really have one, just whatever you prefer is fine

 

Sweet!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a couple of notes :  
> THIS WAS FORMATTING HELL  
> christine id live for you  
> i promise ill get started on th actual plot soon instead of just jeremy angst agejqhsjsj


	3. Chapter 3

“You ready, bud?”

Jeremy turned from staring out of the window, looked at his dad instead. He swallowed dryly. Then nodded. His dad smiled, reached behind the passenger seat and squeezed his shoulder.

“I'm proud of you.”

Jeremy said nothing - didn't think he could, just anxiously fidgeted with his seatbelt while his dad started the car and drove towards Middle Borough High School.

Not even halfway through the ride, Jeremy wanted to wimp out. But he wasn't going to. Mainly because they were picking up Christine along the way, and he didn't want to make her late by collateral damage. He brought his hand in his jean pocket to fiddle with the white headphone cord, as he always did. Wrapped it and unwrapped it around his fingers, tightened it and let it go again.

They pulled up to the Canigula residence, where Christine was already waiting on the sidewalk. She waved as they approached, balancing back and forth on her feet. It reminded Jeremy of something - some _one_ , but he pushed it away. Pushed it _way_ away. He was trying to ignore it as much as possible, just for today.

“Heya!” Christine greeted excitedly as she opened the door, slinging her backpack onto the middle seat along with Jeremy's while she closed the door.

“Hey,” he nodded, smiled.

“You excited to get back in?”

“Not at all.”

Christine laughed, “isn't that the mood. How many periods were you gonna stay for again?”

“I'm aiming for the third.”

She nodded, gave him a reassuring smile. “That's a good first day goal.”

He nodded back.

The rest of the ride was a comfortable silence - or, rather, Christine and Jeremy's dad making small talk, while Jeremy stayed comfortably silent. He took his brains notice of how his dad drove another route than usual to avoid the 7/11, and chucked it out of the window.

And he almost did make it to the third period, too.

The first half of the day wasn't _too_ bad - people stared, some tried to talk to him, though most of them were decent enough. Really, it didn't take much for him to blend back into the background character status he had been in before.

It was the start of third period where it all went to shit. Because third period was math, and math had been one of the only classes he shared with Michael, and one thing Jeremy had not even slightly considered was walking into that classroom and seeing Michael's seat.

_Empty._

Just like Jeremy's insides, suddenly. He got stuck in the doorway, staring at it - some other students pushed around him, complained at him, but none of it would sink into his brain. Everything was too much, suddenly. All the words he could hear but not comprehend, all the textures and smells and people bumping into him and rubbing against him and the cringy sound of chairs being scraped against linoleum floors and people running around in the halls and the pounding of Jeremy's head -

Jeremy ran for it, his heartbeat going a hundred miles per minute, his legs only just stable enough to carry him to the nearest boys bathroom, throw himself into the last stall and lock the door. He slid his bag off of his shoulders, the weight too much, everything _too much_ , he needed something else to focus on, needed something to distract him, needed needed needed-

His brain kept yelling at him while he shakily slipped his headphones on, failing three times before finally getting them up from his neck, then went to his pockets - one to dig out his phone, the other the headphone cord, hands unbearably unstable as they tried to plug both ends in but somehow managed the impossible task. He unlocked his phone, went to Spotify, clicked shuffle on the first playlist he found and leaned back -

And nothing.

No sound would come, other than his own labored and unbalanced breathing. He checked if the end in his headphones was properly plugged in, then the end in his phone, then if his internet was working properly, then if he had actually started the playlist, then if his volume was turned off, then gave up with a frustrated sob, pulling his knees up to his chest and burying his face in them, tugging at the back of his hair and muffling screams into his bony appendages.

_“God, I hate seeing you like this.”_

Jeremy's breath hitched in his throat, nearly choking on it as he sat up ramrod straight, slammed his back against the stall wall and looked around wildly in confusion - up up down down left right.

“W-, who?” Was all he managed to choke out, hands going to rub along his thighs, feeling the texture of his jeans, trying to focus on the sensation of the denim against his palms.

_“Wait - whoa, shit, you can hear me?”_

Jeremy sniffled, nodded, felt less and less alright by the minute.

_“...Hold on. Try - take your headphones off for, like, ten seconds? Then put them back on.”_

Jeremy complied, slipped the headphones off and stared into the open air. In his current state, he couldn't process anything, but the voice was… Something. It felt like _something._ Jeremy couldn't connect what that something was, but it felt… It felt a lot of things, all at once, good and bad and burning. Made tears press at his eyes.

Jeremy put the headphones back on.

_“Okay, cool - did you hear anything while those were off?”_

Jeremy shook his head.

_“Well what the fuck.”_

The voice sounded like it was mainly grumbling to itself, and there was something so horribly familiar about it, Jeremy let out a sob that had been building up in the back of his throat.

_“Hey, shit, no, Jeremy - dude, you have to… Okay wait. I'll calm you down in a second but I just realized - that headphone cord.”_

Jeremy looked down at it, raised it to his face. He couldn't see anything unusual about it.

_“It's white, yeah?”_

Jeremy nodded.

_“Isn’t yours blue?”_

“Oh, shit-” Jeremy blinked. It was. He shuffled around in his pocket, and pulled out another cord - the blue one, Jeremy's.

_“Okay, try plugging that one in for ten seconds, then switch back. Maybe try and play music again.”_

Jeremy did as he was told. The voice disappeared, and the music played as it was supposed to. He hit his knee in frustrated confusion, then switched them back.

_“The music work?”_

Jeremy nodded.

_“Could you hear what I was saying?”_

Jeremy shook his head.

_“Okay. I think - think I know what's going on. Uh, you're already sitting down, so that's good.”_

The voice paused.

_“Don't you recognize me, Jer?”_

And just like that, it clicked.

Jeremy forgot to breathe for a solid twenty seconds once the brick of a realization hit him.

“M-... Michael?”

_“Yeah. Hey bro. I uh - think I'm inhabiting that there headphone cord.”_

Jeremy shakily looked down at it again, ran his fingers along it, eyes wide like it was the most important artifact in the world - and honestly, it _was._

_“Or, you know, something like that. I don't know, I've been linked with you since-... You get the gist, but, I don't think you've been without it since then? So I'm… I'm not sure which one it is, you or the technology. Anyway. Sup!”_

Jeremy didn't answer. Just kept staring at the cord in awed silence.

_“Uh, Jer? Earth to Jeremy? Hell-ooo?”_

“Please - please don't stop talking,” Jeremy whispered.

_“Well you put me on the spot now, don't know what the hell to say!”_

Jeremy let out the smallest laugh, pressed the cord to his chest in delight, rapidly tapped his feet against the tile flooring. If he was hallucinating, he was pretty content with that.

“Just, anything, man, _anything._ ”

_“Alright, well, uh-”_

Michael was cut off by the sound of the door to the toilets opening, and immediately after -

“Jeremy?”

It was Christine’s voice. Jeremy didn't know if he could stomach seeing her, or _anybody_ at the moment, ‘cause Michael's ghost was talking in his headphones-

Holy shit.

Michael's GHOST was talking in his headphones. Ghosts were real. Michael was one of them. Michael- Michael was still dead, it had felt like he wasn't for a second but - ghosts were real and his dead best friend had become one.

Jeremy didn't know when he started hyperventilating.

He heard a gentle knock on the bathroom stall he was in.

“Jeremy?

_“Hey man - please talk to her. You need to, to talk to somebody.”_

“Why would I talk to her when I could talk to you?” Jeremy hissed out under his breath, hoping his rapid breathing masked it from Christine.

_“First of all, while I appreciate that sentiment, don't be fuckin’ rude! Don't ignore her. I'll still be there, when you get home.”_

Michael's voice paused.

_“I'm kind of stuck, so I don't have any choice. Not that I'd ever choose anything else over you.”_

Jeremy found himself relaxing at that, mumbled a small goodbye before he slipped off the headphones to hang around his neck. Christine knocked on the door again.

“Jeremy, I can see your shoes. Come on, we need to get you home.”

“Just a minute,” Jeremy answered, voice grainy. Christine hummed in affirmation, and he heard her take a few steps away, towards the sinks. He leaned his head back against the wall, stared up at the ceiling.

_Holy shit._

Finally he got up - used the toilet seat for leverage to balance himself as he stood, then unlocked the stall and left. Christine was practicing expressions in the mirror - made eye contact with him through it. Jeremy was rudely forced to face his greasy hair and puffy, red eyes, but Christine still smiled at him, no matter how big a mess he looked.

“I already texted your dad, he's on his way.”

Jeremy nodded. “Thank you.”

“Of course! That's what friends are for.”

After a moments hesitation, he stepped closer to her - standing right behind her, watching their reflections, studying the solid height difference between them. He brought up a hand to measure - “man. You're like, more than a head smaller than me. It's wild.”

Christine let out an offended gasp, expression twisting in utter betrayal. “JEREMY! How _dare_ you-”

“Uh, s-, sorry,” Jeremy dropped his hand again, stepped away apologetically. Christine’s face switched to bewilderment.

“Huh? Wait, no-” she turned to Jeremy, held out a hand towards him. “Hey, Jeremy, it's okay! I was just joking, promise! It _is_ pretty wild,” she chuckled. He gave a half-smile back, inwardly kicked himself for taking yet another joke literally.

They were silent for a few moments.

“You wanna get out of the boys bathroom?” He finally asked.

 _"Please,_ ” Christine replied dramatically, lunging for the door. Jeremy followed after, a light smile on his face at her antics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MICHAEL MAKES AN ENTRANCE!!!!  
> its a bad feel kinda day so youre getting a double upload fhdbfjd  
> i hope the way im describing the headphones makes sense also? theyre VERY heavily based off my own, which are bose QC25 noise cancelling headphones, in case you need a visual!! (the colors are 100% made up though, i dont think you can get an all-blue pair or a white pair with a white cord aefjdjddj)


	4. Chapter 4

When Jeremy came home, he sat motionless on the edge of the bed for a  _ long _ time, blue headphones laying beside him on the mattress, white cord still plugged in. 

At first, he couldn't even look down at them, but then he did look, and then he couldn't stop staring.

He didn't know if it only took him a few minutes or hours to finally put them on, but it didn't really matter. With trembling hands, he switched on the noise cancelling feature.

Stared out into the empty room.

“Michael?”

He was met with silence, for the longest time. Then,

_ “H-” _

Jeremy’s breath hitched in his throat, his whole body tensing up even further -

_ “Hewwo?” _

Jeremy choked on the breath, broke into a coughing fit - heard Michael laughing in his ears. Holy shit, it was therapeutic. It felt like they were just having one of their usual phone calls, felt so,  _ so _ good after five months of no Michael.

_ “Sorry, sorry,” _

Michael's giggling finally calmed down enough that he could speak,

_ “hey dude.” _

Jeremy bit at his lip, tried to tuck a rogue strand of hair behind his headphones. “Hey.” He paused. “So how the hell does this work?”

_ “FUCK if I know, dude - I've been wracking my brain over it since you heard me for the first time. I thought I was just, like, about to be a silent observer for the rest of your life.” _

A pause.

_ “Would've been pretty awkward when you finally lost the V-card-” _

“Oh my  _ GOD,  _ Michael,” Jeremy broke him off in a hushed yet exasperated voice. Michael laughed again. Jeremy couldn't even pretend to be upset when that laugh was in his ears.

_ “Anyway,” _

Michael calmed down once more,

_ “obviously the - the most cliché reason for souls to stick around after kickin the bucket is the unfinished business thing, and like - yeah, it's a cliché, but it's a cliché for a reason. The shit makes sense.” _

Jeremy tilted his head a little, nodded, “yeah, I get that. But - what unfinished business do you have?”

Michael clicked his tongue.

_ “Do you know who killed me, Jer?” _

Jeremy's insides went cold. He shook his head.

_ “Yeah. That's my unfinished business. And, um - well there's… There's one more thing, but, that can wait, really.” _

“The-” Jeremy blinked, snorted a little, “the thing holding you back from a peaceful afterlife can  _ wait? _ ”

_ “Hey, do I hear you complaining over my return?” _

“No,” Jeremy immediately shook his head, almost violently. “No, I've… I've missed you so fucking much.”

_ “Yeah. I know.” _

Michael's voice took a soft turn, gentle. Like how he always talked whenever Jeremy was calming down from a meltdown.

_ “I've been watching you, remember?” _

“Wow, way to, way to make it creepy, Mell.”

_ “Hey, not like you've been doing anything you haven't done while I was around. Surprising self control on the celibacy, there, by the way, sir jack-off.” _

“Yeah well, kinda hard to get it up when your best friend is-”

_ “I know, dork, I'm joking.” _

Jeremy let out a huff, falling back on his bed to stare up at the ceiling.

“So…” He trailed off.

_ “So?” _

Jeremy took a little to find the right words, closed his eyes and tapped each finger in his left hand to his thumb, rapidly.

“So. How do we, um. How do we finish your business?”

Michael paused.

_ “Do you really want to?” _

“I mean,” Jeremy sighed. “No. I don't want to lose you again, ever - but I can't imagine you want to stay down here forever.

Another pause.

_ “Maybe not forever. But a while is fine. I'd do that for you. And, you know, me - I'm not done hanging out with you, either.” _

Jeremy felt a smile slip across his face, melancholic. “I love you.”

Michael's breath hitched, then was let out in a light chuckle.

_ “Love you too, bestie.” _

“Which,” Jeremy started, “is why I  _ do  _ want to finish your business. Because - because I want to know, who did this to you. A-, And, I wanna,” Jeremy clenched his left fist, hard, hit the mattress with it. “Fuck. I don't know what I want to do them yet but I know it'll be  _ bad. _ ”

Michael was silent, for a while. Then,

_ “I just want you to know that you're getting hugged by a ghost right now. Jeremiah Heere, first teen boy to cuddle a ghost.” _

Jeremy snorted, and even though he knew it was the placebo effect, he still felt warmer. “Sweet. Call up Buzzfeed Unsolved, so we can wipe that smug look off Shane’s face.”

_ “Much as I'd love to, we have no evidence!” _

“Uh - the  _ headphones _ , Micah?”

_ “He'd come up with some excuse. Recorded audio or whatever. A really neat technology trick.” _

Jerem snorted, dragged his phone out of his pocket. “You're probably right, let me try-” as soon as he swiped onto the camera mode, he dropped his phone, nearly shrieked - bolted upright and almost threw off his headphones in the process.

_ “Jeremy?” _

Michael sounded alarmed.

Jeremy held up a hand, “d- don't, don't move!”

He reached down, grabbed his phone again. Shakily switched it from selfie mode and held it up in front of himself, towards where he'd been laying just a second ago.

“Michael,” Jeremy's voice cracked, tears pressing at his eyes. “I can  _ see you. _ ”

And he could; in real life, Michael was nowhere to be seen, but on the phone screen he was laying on his back on Jeremy's bed, leaned forward slightly, eyebrows scrunched up in worry and brown eyes wide with concern. He blinked, ran a hand through his hair.

_ “Wait, really?” _

His nose scrunched up in disbelief in that way it always did when he was confused about something, and now Jeremy was definitely crying. He nodded. Michael scratched at his chin, sat up - Jeremy took a step back so he could follow his movement, desperately staring at the screen.

_ “Try unplugging the headphones?” _

Jeremy shook his head violently, “no! I don't - I don't want you to disappear, even if it's temporary, I-”

_ “Hey, hey, Jeremy,” _

Michael reached out his arm, Jeremy following the action with his camera, watching Michael reassuringly pat his thigh.

_ “It's alright. Just super quick, for like, two seconds. I won't move an inch, I promise!” _

Jeremy directed the camera back to Michael's face, his earnest eyes looking back. He swallowed a lump in his throat, then nodded, moved his fingers to the headphone cord in the phone, pulled it out -

In a second, Michael was totally gone, like he had never been there in the first place. Jeremy's breathing sped up as he struggled to plug it back in, let out a sob when Michael appeared again. Michael gave him a comforting smile.

_ “I'm guessing I disappeared?” _

Jeremy nodded again, too distraught to speak. Michael nodded back.

_ “Guess it's safe to say I'm bound to the cord. How'd you even get that, anyways? Isn't that, like, evidence or whatever?” _

“Um,” Jeremy moved to sit down again, switched the camera back to selfie mode and held it up horizontally - watched Michael sitting next to him in the screen and convinced himself he could somehow feel his presence next to him. “I… When I saw your body, I ran to it and held you. When they tried to pull me away, I accidentally took it with me. And then I never told anyone, because I didn't want to lose it. It-it felt like you. And,” Jeremy gestured to the screen.

Michael smiled.

_ “Hah, yeah, you were right!” _

Jeremy smiled back - watched Michael lean his head on his shoulder, tried and failed not to tense up. He paused, then gently tilted his head to the side. Not that he could actually feel his cheek squished against Michael's soft hair, or Michael's glasses digging into his shoulder, but he could see it, and that was good enough for him.

“But, wait,” Jeremy started, “don't you remember that? Like - me hugging you.”

Michael shook his head.

_ “Everything surrounding my death is super hazy. I can't even remember faces.” _

Jeremy hummed, nodded. “Guess we have our work cut out for us.”

Michael was silent for a little while. Then he snorted.

_ “And you were the one who hated all those detective games.” _

“Cause the plots were STUPID and the mysteries were WAY TOO EASY-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> he...hewwo...... im widdwe bitty sigs and aww i know how to wite is convewsations and exposition!!!! ówò  
> also Call Me A Vaguer but im,, very very unhappy with how michael is currently being portrayed in certain Other Fics bc hes a literal ray of sunshine and if anybody would its fucken jeremy ahejshdj


	5. Chapter 5

The week progressed as semi-normally as it could, when your dead best friend was speaking to you through a headphone cord. They conducted a few tests; tried plugging the headphones into Jeremy's desktop, and found that the same rules applied. Michael didn't show up on photos, though - only live footage.

Come thursday afternoon, Jeremy still hadn't gone back to school again yet.

_“Dude,”_

Michael said, as Jeremy was researching ghost technology (unsurprisingly very scarce information on that one online) with his webcam service open in the corner of his screen. He looked up at it, at Michael, standing behind him, leaning on his chair.

“What?”

_“You know I love hanging out with you, always, but this,”_

he gestured to Jeremy's computer,

 _“is_ _so boring._ _”_

Jeremy snorted, leaned back a little. “I mean - alright, what do you want to do?”

_“Well I, personally, can't do a whole lot.”_

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “What do you want _me_ to do to entertain you, then?”

_“Literally anything that's not staring at your computer. Or like, something interesting to stare at at least, fire up Netflix and put on a nature documentary!”_

“Don't know a whole lot of people that describe nature documentaries as interesting, if I've gotta be honest,” Jeremy replied while he leaned forward to switch websites, earning him a grimace from Michael in the webcam.

_“You shut your mouth. David Attenborough is a gift and the whole world knows it.”_

Jeremy smiled, clicking into the documentaries category. “So it's a BBC kind of day-”

Jeremy was broken off by his phone ringing. He looked down at it, expecting to see his dads display name, when- “oh. Christine's calling.”

_“Well pick it up, dude!”_

Michael gestured encouragingly, and Jeremy slipped his headphones off to hang around his neck before answering.

“Hey Chris, what's up?”

Jeremy heard the muffled voice of Michael say something about _‘oh so we're on nickname basis with Canigula now, huh?’_ , ignored him.

“Hey Jeremy! I was just wondering when you were gonna try school again? I know monday went badly but - that's life! All we can do is try again, y’know?”

“Uh,” Jeremy blinked, stared at where he could see Michael behind him on his computer screen. “Do I have to?”

Christine laughed.

“Uh, yeah? I mean - pretty much, yeah. It's not healthy for you to stay cooped up in your room all the time, we've talked about this! You have to get that fresh outdoorsy energy.”

“Pretty sure the school has less of that than my room does, if I've gotta be honest.”

“You know? Probably.”

Christine paused.

“Hey, did something happen?”

Jeremy instantly felt a heavy sense of dread settle in his stomach. “Uh - what do you mean?”

“I don't know, you just… You sound different. Good different! Like, you sound happier. Am I way off?”

Jeremy bit at his lip, eyed Michael on the screen again - who was now sitting on Jeremy's bed, spacing off. “I… No, you're not off. I do feel a little better.”

“That's so great! That's- That's really, really good Jeremy. It's about time for your brain to start letting you move on, too.”

A big load of guilt joined the sense of dread. “Yeah. You're right.” He paused, sucked in a deep breath. “Um, I think I'm gonna try again tomorrow. With school, you know.”

“Oh, sweet! You wanna do the same thing we did last time?”

“I'll have to wait til my dad gets home from work to ask if he can drive us. I'll let you know? Otherwise I'll walk.”

“Sounds good! Talk to you later?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, “talk to you later.”

She hung up. He pulled the headphones back on.

_“You know,”_

Michael started, attention back on Jeremy.

_“I don't think you heard me right, I said to do something interesting. And you're going back to school.”_

“I had to get the call to end faster _somehow,_ ” Jeremy huffed, crossed his arms. “Besides, maybe being at school will give us, like. Clues, or whatever. Maybe you'll remember something important about the day.”

_“First off; since when do you need interactions with Christine to end faster? Where'd the lovesick pining fool known as my oblivious bestie go?”_

Jeremy shrugged aimlessly, scratching at the back of his neck. “I don't know, I… I don't think I have feelings for her anymore.”

Michael's face went through a five-second journey in Jeremy's capture. First confusion, then hopefulness, then some sort of despair, then confusion 2: electric boogaloo, about 10 times more bewildered.

_“Why?”_

“‘Cause…” Jeremy's eyes sought out the floor. “Everytime I think about her I think about you, man.”

Silence, for a little bit.

_“Not - not to sound like a broken record here, but, again, why?”_

Michael sounded flustered, but Jeremy chalked it up to his brain misinterpreting things. He took a deep breath, tapped his left fingers to his thumb.

“She was the one that found your body.”

_“Oh.”_

Michael's voice was a mix between disappointment and sadness.

“Yeah. And then - and then me, fifteen seconds later, because I heard her scream while I was walking past the 7/11, and like - what was I gonna do, _not_ come to the aid of Christine Canigula?” Jeremy wheezed out an empty laugh, graduated to clenching and unclenching his fist. He looked up at the screen again, at Michael. “And now I just - I associate her with you, laying five feet away from her, strangled to death and bloodied and bruised and cold.”

Michael nodded.

_“Yeah. I… I get you, dude.”_

He sucked in a breath.

_“Strangled behind a 7/11 huh? Is that, like - was that the divines way of telling me I need an intervention?”_

Jeremy snorted, buried his face in his hands, let out the intersection between a laugh and a sob.

_“Hey, hey, Jer - It's alright, I'm here right now. You need me to stop joking about my death?”_

Jeremy looked up again, found Michael behind him, leaning over his chair, hands on his shoulders, nose bleeding - wait, what?

“Michael - your,” Jeremy blinked, wiped at his eyes to see clearer. “Your nose is bleeding?”

_“Whuh - what?”_

Michael looked just as confused now, nose scrunching up. He found himself in the desktop screen, watched with Jeremy as fresh blood trickled down his face.

Without Michael moving his hands, it suddenly smeared across his face, like somebody was wiping at it. It was a hurried motion, so they only partially wiped the stream. Few seconds later, more blood was inching down the others face - was wiped in the same rushed manner as before.

A light bruise formed on Michael's cheek, like he'd been punched - not hard enough to last a while, but enough for a day.

After a few more minutes of the wiping ritual, it started getting cleaned off - disappearing in the same manner it would if it was getting dabbed at with a wet paper towel. Then the blood was gone - but the bruise stayed.

Michael blinked.

_“Okay, so. Being a ghost is fuckin’ weird?”_

“You don't say,” Jeremy said, leaned forward and brushed his fingers over the screen in concern. “Does that hurt?”

Michael reached up to touch his cheek, pressed at it, made a face.

_“A little, yeah.”_

“Huh.” Jeremy blinked, leaned back again. Heaved a sigh. “Fucking weird.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more expositional filler hew-WO ★~(◡﹏◕✿)  
> also im the type thats a sucker for each chapter having a name but i ....... have no idea what theme to go with fhdbdhd so if everything suddenly changes names, just, like, shhhh, dont comment on it (unless its to flatter my cleverness endlessly)


	6. Chapter 6

School was easier with Michael in his headphones. 

Jeremy always hated when they had to work silently before - but now it was everything he wanted to hear whenever a teacher started a lesson, because that meant he could pretend he was listening to music, write notes to Michael at the corner of his paper.

_ “This is super boring.” _

_ ‘I know.’ _

_ “Like - It's already boring enough when you're alive, I can't even move anything. All I can do is walk around… Oh, shit - Rich is cheating on the test!” _

_ ‘Are we surprised?’ _

_ “Nah. Woah wait, shit- dude, I can totally help you ace this! I'm like a real life video game hint box. Ask me all your most burning history questions and I'll deliver.” _

_ ‘Number 9?’ _

_ “...The smart one hasn't done that one yet. You'll have to wait a minute.” _

It was a vast improvement to the last five months of Jeremy's life. And surprisingly, he made it through the whole day -  _ almost,  _ he left a few minutes early to not get overstimulated by all the other seniors milling out at once. 

Michael was oddly quiet as they walked - Jeremy assumed it was to spare him from looking like he was talking to himself, now that he couldn't communicate through notes. 

As he was about to take the turn that would alter his walking route from his normal one, Michael spoke up.

_ “...Jeremy?” _

Jeremy stopped - pretended he was answering a phone call just in case anyone could see him - “Yeah?”

_ “Can you show me where I died?” _

Jeremy felt his stomach drop.

“I… Are you sure?”

_ “Yeah. I want to see it. Maybe I'll remember something - maybe not, I'd just like to know.” _

Jeremy bit at his lip, looked down. “I'm… Yeah, okay.”

_ “I mean, if it makes you super uncomfortable, you don't have to.” _

“No, it's,” Jeremy shook his head, “you deserve to see it. I'm just, like. I'm.” He bit at his lip, shuffled in place a little. “I'm scared.”

_ “Why?” _

Michael's voice didn't sound judging - sounded tender, worried.

“I don't know,” Jeremy laughed quietly, more of a nervous reaction than him actually finding it amusing. “I - like - I know your body's not there anymore, and that it's been months, but - I don't know.”

_ “Well, hey - that's actually, that gives us more reason to go over there - that would give some sort of closure for the both of us.” _

Jeremy was silent for a little. Then he nodded. “Yeah, you're right. Hold on,” he pulled his phone out, switched to the camera, turned until he found Michael, already facing Jeremy. Michael smiled, waved, and Jeremy could resist the urge to wave back, but not the urge to grin. “I think this will help. Seeing you in another place.”

Michael nodded. Snorted.

_ “Guess we've given up on the not-looking-conspicuous part, hm?” _

Jeremy shook his head, “you should know by now I've always got an excuse for whatever I'm doing at literally any moment ever. I could tell you why I'm breathing too loud right now. I've got it.”

Michael laughed, raised his hands in resignation -

_ “Well, I'm sorry I ever doubted you, Jer.” _

“Yeah, you should be,” Jeremy nodded, smiled. He took a deep breath, then began walking down the streets he used to. Watched Michael on the screen as he walked in front of him, chuckled fondly at the spring in the others step. That was a very accurate way to describe Michael, he thought; A spring. 

No matter what mood, Michael was bouncy. 

When he was happy he was shuffling in place, or bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. When he was anxious, his leg was jittering, or he was tapping his thigh. When he was bored, he did a little bit of everything.

They reached the 7/11 too fast, in Jeremy's opinion, stopped across the street from it. Michael let out a wistful sigh.

_ “God, I want a slushie.” _

Jeremy snorted, lowered his phone again so he wasn't distracted by the red dressed safety hazard, began crossing the street. He trailed along the side of the building, walking down the alley beside it. Came to a stop when he was about to turn the corner to get behind it.

“It, it was somewhere there. I don't remember the exact spot, so, no reason for me to really, see it,” Jeremy lied. Michael evidently didn't buy it, making a skeptical noise.

_ “C’mon, Jer. I don't want to see it alone either.” _

Jeremy looked down, sighed - “how are you always so good at talking me into stupid stuff?”

_ “I'm the champion of stupid. Local gay dumbass, that's me.” _

Jeremy snorted. “Then I'm the local bi dumbass. And we should never be allowed around each other. Yet,” Jeremy raised his phone again, to Michael standing in front of him, “here we are.”

Michael grinned. 

_ “Not even death can separate the mlem disaster duo.” _

“God -” Jeremy rolled his eyes, “It's m-l-m, why do you always have to say it like that?”

_ “Because,” _

Michael started, getting an important look on his face,

_ “Blep.” _

He stuck his tongue out. Jeremy gasped indignantly, pointed a finger at him - “put it back!”

“ _ Mnever,” _

Michael managed around his tongue. Jeremy took a breath, gathered up his best impression skills. “Put that thing back where it came from or  _ so help me _ , Mell!”

Michael finally retreated his blep, if only to break into laughter.

_ “Holy shit - Mike Wazowski, I'm so sorry, I didn't know!” _

Jeremy grinned, rolled his eyes. “Come on, we have a crime scene to witness.”

Michael calmed down again, nodded; followed Jeremy as he turned the dreaded corner. Jeremy froze up for a second, the scene all too familiar for a moment - before his eyes confirmed to his brain that there was, indeed, no dead Michael Mell laying on the ground.

Only a semi-alive Michael Mell standing a few feet in front of him, looking around.

Said Michael had gone quite still. Not just vocally, but physically, too, which was very strange for him.

“Michael? What's up?”

_ “I'm…” _

Michael sounded frustrated - pained, almost.

_ “I feel something-” _

“Jeremy? What are you doing?”

Jeremy whipped around on his heel - switched apps as he was doing so. Was met with Christine at the edge of the building, looking extremely concerned (and nervous).

“Playing Pokemon GO,” he explained as he pulled his headphones down, flipped the screen around to show her.

She paused. Eyed  _ that _ spot, tilted her head a little. “Are you  _ really? _ ”

Jeremy felt that same weight of guilt in his stomach as yesterday, lowered his arms again. “I just… I was, and then I was nearby, and I-” he fumbled for an excuse, decided on a half-truth. “I needed to see it again. Without him here. Know that he wasn't-wasn't abandoned on the wet asphalt, that it was over."

Christine hummed, nodded sympathetically. “...Yeah, I get you.”

“Why are you here, anyways?”

“I saw you walk behind the building and I got a little worried. I don’t know what I thought you were planning to do, but - better safe than sorry, right?”

“Yeah, that. That makes sense. I could probably get up to something real stupid behind here, somehow.”

Christine snorted, stepped closer to him. “Can I see your Pokémon?”

Jeremy was confused for a second, before he remembered his excuse - motioned her closer and opened up his pokedex, let her take his phone from his hands. 

He agreed absentmindedly with her commentary on his collection, explained a few names. After a few moments, she went back to the map - emitted a gasp.

“There’s an Electabuzz! You want me to catch it for you?” She looked up at him excitedly. He swallowed an uneasy lump; he didn’t exactly know why.

“Uh - didn’t I already have one of those?”

“Nope - oh, and this is one of the rare ones, too! Wish my phone wasn’t dead,” she laughed, tapped on the 3D model and raised the phone. 

Jeremy anxiously peeked at the screen over her shoulder.

Nothing unusual in the background, except for the VR Pokemon. Michael had moved. Thank god.

Until suddenly, his screen flickered - a loud static-y noise sounded from his headphones, making Jeremy yelp.

“What the - is that, like, normal?” Christine laughed nervously, looking to Jeremy. Jeremy was about to shake his head. Got distracted by what was on his screen.

A group of teens were leaning against the back of the building - laughing, smoking, kicking around a crumpled up can on the asphalt. Really, it wasn't that unusual - except for the fact that they weren't there in real life, just like Michael's ghost. 

Except… Except he knew those teens couldn't be dead. He had  _ seen them _ at school that very day - could even recognize two of them, Dustin Kropp and Jake Dillinger. 

He was pretty fucking sure even he would've heard about it if those two had died in the short timespan between when he left his last lesson and when he pulled out his phone.

“Jeremy?”

Christine was examining his face worriedly - still hadn't noticed what was going on on the screen. Jeremy took his phone back, staggered a step away from her.

“I'm -” he had trouble finding an excuse for this one, head pounding. “I feel - I feel really bad suddenly, I don't like being here.”  _ Well, it wasn't really a lie. _

Christine nodded - “I get that,” she said softly. “Do you want me to follow you home?”

No. He wanted, scratch that,  _ needed _ to talk to Michael, but he could hear people walking around the streets now. Enough people that would notice him acting weird.

He nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah, that'd be nice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the plot thicckquéns  
> also - shameless promo but also sort of useful, if you would like to see my headcanons for michael and jeremy (really just jeremy though bc my michael is basically george agehshsh) you can check out some doodles on my twitter, also @flitterseb !!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> double upload babey!!! a little warning, theres some descriptions of effects from damage being done to michaels face here, but the Actual Damage isnt described.

Christine ended up staying at Jeremy's house for an hour or so after she had walked him home, wanted to make sure he stayed safe. Which Jeremy wouldn't have minded, normally - he liked hanging out with Christine, liked it a lot, liked her a lot. There was just the detail this time around that Michael's ghost was there, too, and Jeremy had some questions to ask it; mainly, _what the fuck?_

As soon as she left, Jeremy slipped his headphones back on - stood still in his room waiting for Michael to say something. He didn't.

“So - that was. That was weird, huh?” He asked quietly, aiming for levity but mostly coming across nervous.

Michael still didn't answer. Jeremy grew worried. He pulled up his phone to look around his room - found Michael well within earshot, standing near Jeremy's door, feet firmly planted on the ground and his hands in his pockets, staring at the floor. His brows were scrunched together in thought, and he had a light scowl on his face.

“Michael?”

Michael looked up at that - a different kind of warmth in his eyes than the usual soft fire crackling in the deep brown irises. This fire was a powerful heat, frustrated, angry, and a lot distressed, nothing like Michael's usual carefree energy. Jeremy swallowed.

“What's wrong?”

Michael stared at him for a moment, then directed his intense gaze back to the floor. Went silent again, for a while.

_“Something happened. Where I died. I felt something. I - I still don't remember how or who did it, but it feels like I'm so close to knowing.”_

Jeremy paused.

“Did you… Was it you that made my phone do that thing?”

Michael looked up at him again.

_“Do what?”_

“When Christine was trying to catch that Pokemón - my screen glitched out for a moment, and there was static in my headphones, and a group of teens showed up on my screen, in the same way that you do.”

Michaels eyebrows furrowed.

_“That - what? I-”_

He paused, ran a hand through his hair.

_“I thought… I thought those were, like - I thought they were ghosts, too.”_

Jeremy shook his head. “I saw some of them at school today. Dustin Kropp even shoved me in the hall.”

Michael blinked. Looked back down at the floor. Threaded his fingers through his hair again, this time grabbing a fistful in the back - Jeremy knew he focused better with the pressure.

_“I've been… I've been seeing - god, how do I even describe it? I've been seeing people, all around town, but they're like… They look like force ghosts, from Star Wars. Those teens looked like that, too - ‘xept, when I got that feeling, they got like… They got more vibrant.”_

“That's… That's very weird. What do you think they are, then?”

Michael shook his head, signifying he didn't know. Jeremy huffed, sat back on his bed. “Have they been there from the start? Like - since you can remember following me around?”

Michael nodded.

_“They're really routinely, actually. But I thought that was just, like - how ghosts are.”_

“Well, you haven't been very routinely, have you?”

_“I mean… I have, but only because I've been stuck with you,”_

Michael teased, got a hint of that warm glow back in his eyes as he smiled at Jeremy.

_“I've been peoplewatching from your window, though. One of the force ghosts from your neighbors house goes out to check the mailbox at the exact same time every monday, and someone comes back from a run at 7:30 PM every thursday. There's more, but those two were the ones I tallied the most.”_

“Michael -” Jeremy snorted, “are these all, like, young people?”

_“Eh, inbetween.”_

“I mean… Think of why you're here. Unfinished business because you got murdered, right?”

Michael nodded.

“How many people did you _think_ get murdered every year in suburban New Jersey? Like, enough to fill out a whole neighborhood of ghosts?”

Michael flushed.

_“...Look, I've already admitted that I'm a dumbass gay, I'm just sticking to my brand here, man.”_

Jeremy laughed, “alright, fair. Anyway, that's… That is pretty goddamn weird.”

_“You don't say.”_

Jeremy huffed, sat still in thought.

“Wanna put off the theorising and watch a movie?”

_“Fuck yes. Let's turn off these hell brains for the weekend.”_

  
  
  
  


“Maybe you're like… Maybe it's like groundhog day, except you're experiencing every new day, and then, on a seperate track, an older day on loop, and it's just an endless flow of bullshit.” Jeremy theorised sunday evening, laying on his back on his bed.

Michael blinked.

_“I… Jer, where'd you pull something smart like that from? That actually makes sense.”_

Jeremy blinked right back - “wait, really? I was, like, I was trying to make a joke.”

_“Pretty shitty jokester, but great ghost theorist then, apparently.”_

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “But, that can't be right. You said the force ghosts did different things on different days.”

Michael paused in thought, rubbed at his neck.

_“Maybe it's a full week? I mean…”_

He bit at his lip.

_“I died on a sunday, right?”_

“...They think it was around late sunday night, yeah.”

_“What if it's the week that I died that's on loop? Lines up with everyone's routines, at least.”_

Jeremy thought about it for a minute, swallowed a lump. Nodded. “I. Yeah, that. That makes a lot of sense, actually.” He paused, remembered something - “you think that ties into that random bruise you got the other day? Like, maybe your body is reliving it too?”

Michael went silent.

Looked to Jeremy's alarm clock.

Jeremy did too; Realized what that implication meant.

_“I guess we'll find out.”_

Jeremy swallowed a hard lump in his throat - got the sudden urge to close his camera app, but resisted his squeamishness.

It started at 11:46 AM, quite small, actually; Michael's cheeks went red, like they were being pinched. Jeremy sat up straight in his chair when it happened - he had moved to his computer, for a bigger screen. Even if it hurt to watch, it was necessary, in case any obvious evidence should somehow come to mind.

Seconds after the pinching, Michael's lip split open from a hard punch to the mouth. Jeremy grabbed onto the arm rests of his computer chair, clutched at them tightly and forced himself to keep watching, keep looking at Michael, who was standing up behind Jeremy and staring intensely at himself on the screen.

There was a punch to his eye. Jeremy flinched. His glasses broke with the impact, cut his eyebrow, blood trickling down over his soon swollen eyelids.

Next a punch to his nose. To his cheek. His cheek again - eye again.

Jeremy blinked down tears, rubbed at his eyes to get the blurriness away.

Red handprints stretched across Michael's neck; both of them tensed up.

Handprints turned blue. Turned purple. Blood stained Michael's lips, trailed down his chin. His face slowly drained of life - went grayer, eyes gone glassy.

Then nothing.

At the stroke of midnight, Michael's face cleared up completely - like nobody had ever laid a hand on him.

Jeremy unclenched his teeth and exhaled shakily, sagging into his chair as his body untensed from relief.

Silence fell over them, for a little while.

_“So. Our next Sunday evening plans are set.”_

Jeremy held back a whimper. He knew what Michael meant; knew they had to go back to the scene of the crime and see the perpetrator.

But _fuck_ , was he dreading it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JAKE DIDN'T DIE Y'ALL CALM DOWN AGEJSGSHSHSJ


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for slurs and general homophobia.

Monday felt like there was a death sentence hanging over Jeremy's head. Which there kind of was, he supposed, it just wasn't actually his.

Except it was.

A part of him had died with Michael. He knew it, everybody else knew it - Jeremy didn't know if Michael knew, but he sure as fuck should. Michael was his other half. Before October 15th, Jeremy couldn't talk about his past, present or future without also mentioning Michael.

Jeremy also knew this ghost set-up wasn't healthy for him, or his period of grief. That was where the guilt came from, whenever Christine mentioned how he seemed so much better - he wasn't actually, genuinely healing, he still had no idea how to do that, and he kept pushing learning how to off in favor of just hearing Michael, seeing him, basking in his warm, energetic presence. 

He refused to think about what he would do when Michael's murder was solved.

Speaking of.

_ ‘So hold on. When you say that your unfinished business is solving your murder, to what extent do you mean?’ _

It took a little time for Michael to answer - Jeremy assumed he was walking around the quiet classroom like usual, spying on peoples doodles and notes and whatever they were doing on their phones underneath the table.

Finally, he spoke again, somewhere from right next to Jeremy. He was probably leaning over the table to read.

_ “Elaborate?” _

Jeremy paused in thought, tapped his mechanical pencil against the paper quietly.

_ ‘Like… Do you just want anybody to know, so I for example would be enough, or do you want whoever did it jailed?’ _

_ “Preferably jailed, but like - I'm an openly gay kid of color. If anything, if they caught them in time, they'd probably have found some way to arrest me for - I don't know. Agitating my murderer by existing, maybe.” _

Jeremy huffed, shoulders slumping.

_ ‘Hey did I mention I hate law enforcement?’ _

_ “Oh, biggest mood, Jer. Anyways - I don't know. I just… I want some sort of punishment for whoever did it.” _

Jeremy bit at his lip.

_ ‘Think we'll have to go vigilante?’ _

_ “Oh shit, Jer, didn't know you had such a rebel spirit in you!” _

_ ‘When it comes to you? Always.’ _

_ “Aw. You'll make me cry.” _

_ ‘Good. I want to see you cry.’ _

Michael snorted and broke into laughter, and Jeremy revelled in the warmth of his joy. He could probably survive just on that laugh, Jeremy thought - pushed aside the nagging dread that filled him over the thought that one day it wouldn't be there anymore.

Time went on, Michael making comments here and there whenever Jeremy could hear him about the teachers lectures and  _ “Jeremy, H2O is WATER, you absolute dumbass”. _

All in all a not-too-heinous day, but then again. There was always a calm before the storm.

The storm just happened to arrive a lot earlier than Jeremy thought it would - in the form of Rich Goranski snatching Jeremy's headphones from him in the school parking lot.

“Why you wearing these so much lately, huh, tall-ass? Trying to hide even more?” Rich teased - Jeremy felt dread settle in his stomach, tugged on the white headphone cord as he staggered backwards, the end getting pulled out. Rich laughed - probably thought that was Jeremy's attempt to get his headphones back. Jeremy would let him have that satisfaction in favor of keeping Michael's spirit safe, clutching the cord to his chest.

A few other teens were in a half-circle behind Rich, some of the usual people he hung out with - Jake Dillinger with an arm slung around Chloe Valentine's waist, as she was examining Brooke Lohst’s nails, talking about manicure care. Jenna Rolan was stood somewhat behind them, texting away, as always. A few other guys were there as well - the one most engaged in the unfolding scenario being Dustin Kropp, smirking down at Jeremy with crossed arms.

“M-, maybe I just want to listen to music?” Jeremy proposed, hated the way his tongue tripped over the words.

Rich laughed. “Yeah, now that you don't have your  _ boyfriend _ at school, there's really no one left that pities you enough to talk to you, huh?”

Some of the half circle laughed. Jeremy sunk down, felt heat rise to his face, free hand clenching and unclenching at his side. “He… He wasn't my boyfriend.”

“ _ Sure _ he wasn't,” Dustin Kropp snorted, stepped closer, to stand by Rich. “You two are the only f■■s in this school and you hung out constantly. Don't tell me you nasty homos wouldn't use whatever opportunity you had to touch dicks.”

The words felt like a knife to Jeremy's gut - even Rich seemed a little off-put by them, breaking face just for a moment to eye Dustin nervously, take an almost-unnoticeable step away from him.

“Don't,” Jeremy was digging his nails into the palm of his hand at this point, to keep his anger down. “Don't call him that.”

Dustin laughed. “What, is queer better? Fairy? Sperm gurgler? Come on, give me something to work with, Heere.”

“Dude, he's dead,” Jake Dillinger took a step forward, pulled Dustin back by the elbow. Dustin looked at him like he just grew a second head.

“Uh, yeah,  _ and? _ He can't hear me, can he?”

Jeremy stared daggers at the back of Dustin’s head. He sure wished Michael couldn't.

Jenna Rolan emitted a yelp - almost dropped her phone, stared at her screen in confusion. Chloe directed an annoyed glare at her.

“ _ What? _ ”

Jenna glanced from her, to Dustin, to Jeremy, then back to her phone.

“I just got a snap. From Michael.”

Jeremy felt like he'd been shocked - while everyone else was distracted, discreetly pulled his phone halfway out of his pocket. Found it unlocked, and in the process of closing out of Snapchat - then, by itself, switching to Jeremy's note app.

_ ‘Sorry bro, a gay is fuming.’ _

Jeremy looked back up.

“What does it say?” Brooke asked, timidly.

Jenna flipped the screen around, showed a completely black picture with the standard text box.

_ ‘I wouldn't be so sure about that.’ _

Everybody stared at the screen until the time ran out; then Dustin turned on his heel to glare at Jeremy.

“You do that, homo? I bet you know all his passwords - give me your phone!” He took a threatening step closer. Jeremy could only hope Michael had accounted for this outcome as he staggered backwards, quickly plugged the white headphone wire out before handing over his phone with trembling hands. 

After a few frustrated moments searching, Dustin gave up, thrust the phone back at Jeremy who barely caught it in time. “Doesn't even have it installed - not enough friends to even bother, huh?”

_ God bless Michael Mell. _

“Guys, can this be  _ done  _ soon?” Chloe groaned. “Otherwise me and Brooke are going to Pinkberry by ourselves.”

Jake tapped Rich’s shoulder - Rich tossed the blue headphones to Jeremy, in a lot more of a friendly manner than Dustin. As the others dissipated, Rich lingered for a moment - gave Jeremy a look. Almost apologetic. Looked like he wanted to say something. Then Jake called for him, and he ran off.

Jeremy went back inside the school - had to find a bathroom, to lock himself in a stall and calm down in. 

He would plug Michael back in later. Right now, he needed  _ silence. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ri c h sweetie im sorry i gave you such bad friends  
> also  
> michael: [hacker voice] im in


	9. Chapter 9

Denim, plastic, porcelain, cold tile. Denim, plastic, porcelain, cold tile. Denim, plastic, porcelain, cold tile. 

Jeremy kept running his hands over all of it, feeling the textures in repetitive rubbing motions, desperately clawing at his thighs and the bathroom stall walls and the base of the gross toilet he was seated next to to somehow ground himself back in reality. It gave him something to focus on, other than his staggering breath, and his throat closing up sending him gasping after air. 

Everything was horrible - not just the shit that just happened, and all the terrible things Dustin said, and the fact that Michael was dead, but also the fact that Michael was probably  _ watching  _ him,  _ right now,  _ watching what little there was left of his pathetic spirit breaking on the floor of a toilet stall. And this was the second time he was watching that happen during the course of one week. 

“I must look pretty, pretty goddamn ridiculous, right now,” he sniffled quietly, into the emptiness of the bathroom. His voice bounced off the walls gently, echoed in his head. 

He sighed - and collected his headphones and wires from the floor, and then himself, spiritually and physically. He pushed himself up to stand on wobbly knees, and then just stood, swaying a little in an unstable manner fitting of his emotional state. He held the headphones by the bridge in one hand, and stared down at them. With a sigh, he carefully curled up the white headphone cord and swung his backpack off by one strap - tucked it safely, into a side pocket. He dropped his headphones and the regular blue cord in the main room, and zipped up his bag again, then pushed open the door to the stall he'd chosen for his breakdown.

He was going to walk a quieter road, home. It would be slower, but he'd had trouble feeling any sort of passage of time lately anyways, so - it was worth it, for the sake of walking through the few grassy areas they had in town. 

They had exactly one park, and it was pretty shit. It's main use was as a hangout for pot smokers of all ages, shapes and sizes during the dark hours, and Jeremy had spent a few nights with Michael on the rusty swingsets. They'd stare up at the sky and freestyle dumb, fake constellation names, pointing to the star free darkness above with badly acted enthusiasm. Some of Michael's greatest hits - read, the ones that made Jeremy fall off his swing laughing - were “a bucket of snail dicks”, “like, a weird spider”, and, of course, “Poseidon's juicy fucking ocean ass”. 

(Jeremy was fully aware that him laughing at that while high didn't mean Michael had the most amazing, incredible sense of humor - it probably just meant that Jeremy's was horrible.) 

“Tall- Er,... Jeremy?”

Jeremy felt his insides go white hot and burning cold at the same time, and his whole body seize up. Usually that voice sent him fight-or-flighting, but at that moment, it made his limbs so stiff he thought he might fall over. He couldn't even respond - he could only wearily follow Rich with his eyes as he walked up from behind him, head cocked in a searching gesture. 

Their eyes met, briefly, and that was enough to kick Jeremy's instincts back into a violent full gear, having him try to turn on his heel and run away, as fast and soon as possible. Of course, he didn't even get one meter, because Rich's reaction didn't take an eternity to gear up and had him immediately grab Jeremy by the elbow and hold him back. 

“Hey- wait!”

Jeremy didn't have a choice on that matter, but he did choose to twist himself as far away from Rich as he could in their position, and strain against the iron grip on his overarm. 

“Dude - look at me, what the hell!”

Jeremy stilled his futile restraint, dropped his head to stare down at the ground. 

“Right, point taken. My guy, I'm not gonna do whatever you think it is I'm tryna do. I just - I wanna, uh. Talk to you, about something.”

Jeremy's free fist clenched, and he stayed silent for a few moments. God, why couldn't he have taken the noisy road home. 

“What.” 

“I, uh…” 

Jeremy wasn't used to Rich hesitating. He stole a quick look at his face, and found him biting his lip, hesitating. When he looked like he was gearing up to say more stuff, Jeremy glued his eyes to the grass again. 

“It's about - it's about Michael - “ Jeremy felt his whole body tense up with anticipation and something visceral ” - but not, like- not any of that, uh,  _ stuff,  _ Kropp was spouting.”

Jeremy shut his eyes, unclenched and clenched his fists a couple of times.

_ “What.” _

“Uh-...”

Jeremy thought he heard the slightest waver of fear in Rich's tone, and it filled him with such a sense of satisfaction that he thought he might faint for a second.

Nevertheless, Rich took a deep breath, and let go of Jeremy's shoulder, to his surprise. Jeremy immediately got a safe distance away from the 5'5” bomb, crossing his arms around himself protectively - but he didn't run away. He looked down at Rich's face, and swallowed, hard. 

“J-, just - just get it over with and ask, p-, please.”

Rich huffed and nodded, shoved his hands in his pockets. “So. I know there's rumors, and everything, and shoddy ‘gaydars’ and shit, but - Michael. Was… Was he?”

Normally, under any other circumstance, Jeremy would not have even given Rich the opportunity to ask him something like that. 

However. 

He knew for a certain fact that Rich was a  _ terrible  _ actor, because if he had the skills to fake the earnest tone of his voice and the nervous tics and what sounded like a slight lisp, last years school play would've been a lot more bearable. 

Jeremy swallowed the dryness in his throat, looked down at the ground. “Gay, yeah.” 

Rich was silent, for a second. “And, uh… And you?”

“Bi,” Jeremy mumbled. 

More silence. 

“... Alright. Uh… I, um.” Another long pause. “I'm… I might-... Thanks.” 

Jeremy glanced up at Rich, eyebrows furrowed. “You might what? Are you gonna tell anyone?”

Rich shook his head quickly - “no, that's not - I mean. I'm, I'm  _ not _ , but even if I did… I mean, y’know. Right?”

Jeremy sighed heavily, and nodded. Rich would hardly be the first to say stuff like that about him and Michael. 

An awkward silence hung between them, for a couple of moments, before Rich spoke up. 

“I'm sorry. About him. That's… That's all. See you around, Jer.”

Jeremy made some noise of acknowledgement, and after hanging around for a few seconds or so, Rich ran off, back to where he came from. Jeremy stayed back in the park, and in addition to feeling exceedingly weird, felt a couple of raindrops hit his shoulders. The look of the grey clouds above him, packed tightly together in the sky, was not one that he liked. Eventually, he had to run home as well. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> e e e eeeeehhh you knoooow  
> sometimes you dont update a fan favorite fic people have been begging for for 7 months and one (1) week and sometimes you play minecraft until 3 am because you forget time is a thing and sometimes both of those experiences give you the same emotion


	10. Chapter 10

_ “Jeremy, what. The. HELL.” _

 

Jeremy's shoulders tensed in response to Michael's outburst, sounding from his headphones as soon as he'd plugged the white cord into his phone. He hadn't even put them  _ on _ yet - he was still holding them by the bridge, but Michael's yell was so loud he heard it as if they were on full volume on his head anyways. He was about to put them back on, explain himself, when - 

“Jeremy?”

His head shot up, to see his dad in the doorway to the living room. He looked concerned, and confused. Jeremy imagined he didn't look much different himself. 

“Uh - hey, dad - you're not at work?” 

“Got off early. You, on the other hand, are very late. Why?”

“Um.” Jeremy paused. He hadn't been expecting to need to justify this one. “I was, uh-”

“Lord, you're soaking wet too! Do you want me to run you a warm bath?”

“Uh,” okay, now it was heading to embarrassing territory, “no thanks, I'll just change.”

“Cup of tea? Coffee?”

“No, I-” 

“A towel, or a warm blanket?”

“DAD,” Jeremy yelled, shutting his eyes tight in frustration. “No thank you! I don't need your help!”

When he opened them again, his dad looked shocked, and a little hurt. Jeremy felt a stab of regret twist around in his stomach. Just then,

 

_ “Dumbass.”  _

 

Jeremy flinched, pulling the cord out as fast as possible. His dad had gone back to looking confused, and Jeremy didn't know if that was better or worse. 

“What was-” 

“P-, PODCAST, I'm - I'm listening to a podcast. That's - I'm late because I wanted to finish an episode on the way home, that's why.”

Before his dad could question him further, Jeremy pushed past him out of the entryway, up the stairs and into his room, where he locked the door and threw his backpack to the floor. He took a moment to recollect himself, leaning against the solid wood behind him, before plugging the white cord back in. 

“Okay, now it's my turn. Michael -  _ what the fuck?“ _ Jeremy hissed, walking to sit on the edge of his bed. 

 

_ “Just spilling the tea,”  _

 

Michael said, in that way where Jeremy knew he was shrugging comedically. Jeremy didn't find it very funny, this time around. 

“Dude! What the hell would we do if my dad realized it was you!”

 

_ “What, do you seriously think he would guess that we're… I don't know, what are we even doing! What are YOU doing, talking to RICH like that. RICH! R-I-C-H, Rich. Are you like, for real-for real losing your mind?” _

 

Jeremy leaned his elbows on his knees, hunching his back as he shut his eyes in an attempt to think clearly, trying to discern his reasons. Everything was muddled - Michael yelling at him didn't make it any better. 

“My dad…” He started, paused. Bit at his lip. “My dad probably wouldn't think that it was…  _ You,  _ in the way that  _ I _ know it's you. But he still might think something was up. Like, I'm listening to old audio clips of you or something.”

 

_ “Like you did before?” _

 

“You don't have to call me out on it,” Jeremy mumbled - “but he'd probably also realize that - this isn't  _ my _ headphone cord, and he'd take it away, because he'd think of it as unhealthy coping. Or something.”

 

_ “...Why would he think that?“ _

 

“I mean, to the outsider perspective I'm walking around obsessing over an object that used to belong to you that I… Literally stole from the scene of the crime. It wouldn't - it wouldn't be an unfair guess.”

 

_ “...Alright, fair game. I'm sorry for insulting you in front of him. And, y'know - insulting you at all, and yelling at you. I was still mad.” _

 

“It's okay,” Jeremy muttered, subconsciously caressing the cord with his thumb, like he would stroke Michael's hand whenever he was upset. “Also, you call me a dumbass, like, constantly.”

 

_ “Yeah, but not MALICIOUSLY - the fact that you're a dumbass is endearing. I love your dumbassery. It's the perfect match to my idiocy.” _

 

Jeremy snorted, straightening himself up again. “Fair enough.” 

 

_ “...Speaking of your dumbassery, though. Back to the topic of Rich.” _

 

“Right,” Jeremy sighed. “I don't know, he just… He seemed different! Like, have you ever seen Rich  _ nervous _ before? Because I haven't.”

 

_ “So five minutes of him being nervous combats two years of him tormenting you non-stop? I'm still not getting your logic.” _

 

“No, of course not, it just… I don't know. I felt a connection of  _ something.  _ I really… I can't explain it better than that.”

Michael went silent for a little, before letting out a sigh. 

 

_ “Okay. I trust your judgement.” _

 

“Thank you,” Jeremy smiled, looking down at the white cord in his hands. He paused, and tilted his head a little. “Though, um… You did - you did bring up something, before you brought up Rich…”

 

_ “Yeah?” _

 

“What… What  _ are _ we doing?”

Michael went silent again, longer this time. 

 

_ “...I don't know. Chilling? Hanging out? Still being best buds forever?” _

 

Jeremy made a dissatisfied noise, clutching the cord tighter. “It feels weird. I don't want to just - be sitting around, talking like nothings wrong. Everything that could possibly be wrong is wrong right now.”

 

_ “That's not true. You're not dead.”  _

 

“No, but  _ you _ are! And we don't know how, or why! I just… I know we gotta go to the 7/11 on Sunday for the ghost cam, or whatever, but I don't think I can wait for that. I'm tired of being in this goddamn room and I'm tired of being confused and uncertain and I'm tired of… I don't know, everything! My life has been on pause for almost half a year, with this eating away at me, and I need it solved, and I need to do something.”

Michael had another stretch of silence, the longest one yet. 

 

_ “...I don't think I've ever heard you sound that motivated before. Where do you want to start?” _

 

Jeremy sighed in relief at the lack of rejection, scratched at his neck. He had an idea… But he didn't like it, at all. It made him nervous and upset, but it was the only place he could think to start. 

“I could… I could talk to your moms.”

Michael made a noise that sounded like a choked gasp - 

 

_ “no!” _

 

“Where else?” Jeremy said, helplessly. “You can't remember anything from that night, and they were the last to see you.”

 

_ “But - you can't, just, just show up and ask them about me - I can't… I don't want to go over there.” _

 

Michael's voice got more grainy and strained as the sentence went on, and Jeremy had no doubts he was crying. He swallowed, held out his hand in the open air, in case Michael wanted to hold it. He obviously had no real way of telling, but he felt like he did. 

“C'mon, Micah… It's like, when you made me go behind the 7/11. You have to face it, them, at some point. Don't you want to know how they're doing?”

When Michael spoke again, his voice was still quivering, soft. 

 

_ “But what if they're doing bad?... And what if-” _

 

He snapped after air, his voice turning to a whisper. 

 

_ “What if they're doing better without me?” _

 

“ _ Michael- _ ” Jeremy felt his heart ache a little more, if that was even possible. “Was  _ I  _ doing better without you? And - if they're doing bad… Closure would probably be the first thing they need.”

Michael was silent except for sniffles and the occasional sob for a while, before his breath started evening out and he calmed down again. 

 

_ “...Okay. Let's do it.” _

 

Jeremy smiled. “Great.”


	11. Chapter 11

The expression on her face when Michael's mom, Felisa, opened the door upon Jeremy's knocking, was almost enough to make him turn on his heel and run away again. He was prevented from doing that, though, as she almost immediately pulled him into a hug.

“This is long overdue,” she muttered into his shoulder, rubbing his back softly. 

Jeremy was frozen in shock for a good five seconds, then felt his lips tremble for a moment as the rest of his person started processing the situation. He hugged her back, sniffled. 

She leaned back again - reached up to brush his curly hair back from his face, held onto his cheek. Smiled. “I always forget how tall you are, until I'm looking up at you. Do you want a cup of tea?”

Jeremy wanted to respond, but his throat had closed up with emotion, and he honestly wouldn't have trusted his voice to sound normal anyways. Instead he settled for just nodding, and followed Felisa inside, kicking his shoes off in the hallway. As he went through to the kitchen, he did everything to ignore the door to the basement while walking past it, as well as the fact that the alien stickers and “Area 69” sign had been removed from it. 

“Excuse the mess,” Felisa said as Jeremy sat down at the bench behind the kitchen table, and she went to put the kettle on. 

Jeremy mumbled a quick ‘of course’, fiddling with the sleeves of his sweater as he thought about how to bring the night of the foul up. He and Michael had been brainstorming ever since when they decided to go, about how to bring him up. 

Jeremy really wanted to talk to Michael  _ now _ , but he would feel too weird about hearing his voice, with Felisa right there. They'd tried the texting method a few times since the tumultuous encounter with Rich and his friends, but Michael's manipulation of the mortal world was apparently powered by his emotions. He had been fuming over Dustin's name calling - so much that he'd been ready to strangle him, but all he could fiddle with was whatever he was plugged into. 

_ ‘Fit me up his nostril next time so I can turn off his fucking brain’,  _ Michael had told Jeremy upon this discovery. Jeremy didn't think that was how it worked, but it'd sent him into a laughing fit anyways. 

“Here you go,” Felisa suddenly said, voice intercepting Jeremy's thoughts as she placed a big mug in front of him on the table. 

Jeremy blinked - “uh, thanks,” he stammered, fully returning to reality. He hadn't even felt time passing because he was so deep in thought about Michael. 

She smiled as she sat down across from him with her own cup in hand, like she'd done so many times throughout his childhood. Jeremy gulped.

“Also,” she started, stirring her tea a little, “does Gabriel know you're not at school?”

Jeremy flushed, tongue tripping over itself. His dad  _ did not _ know. “I-I, uh, um-” 

Felisa broke him off with a laugh that sounded tired and rare, but affectionate, as she reached across the table to squeeze his wrist. “It's okay, I'm sure he wouldn't mind you being here instead. I just wanted to know, is all.”

Jeremy relaxed a little, although still tense. “No, he uh… He doesn't know.”

“I gathered as much,” she replied. Winked, when he glanced quickly up at her face. 

They sat in silence for a small while, waiting for their drinks to cool, as the soothing aroma of lavender permeated the air. The familiar scent made Jeremy feel sleepy, and more relaxed, less anxious about the questions he had for Felisa.

“I want to talk about Michael,” he said, before his spout of confidence went away. “A-about that night, I mean,” he added quickly - to make sure she really knew what she meant, and wasn't caught by surprise.

She was quiet for a few moments; Jeremy didn't dare look up at her, couldn't handle eye contact.

“I figured you might,” she then said, softly. Her voice was small, but steady. 

He dared to steal a look up at her face, and found her gazing towards the direction of Michael's bedroom door, sadly. 

Then she looked back at him, and his eyes darted back down to his tea cup. 

“What do you want to know?” She said, and Jeremy swallowed. 

“When-” Jeremy's voice cracked and died off. He tried again. “When did you last see him?”

“Evening of October the 16th, around 9 PM,” she answered, faster than Jeremy expected, like she'd been rehearsing it. He blinked, looking up at her in surprise, forgetting to be anxious. She gave a wry smile. “I've told the police the same thing. Many times.”

“Oh,” Jeremy muttered, looking down again. 

“He was going to bed… Well, I don't think he went to bed there, but that was when he said goodnight. I imagine he was probably up a lot later than that.”

Jeremy smiled, weakly. “Probably.”

Felisa sucked in a deep breath, and shifted around a little in her chair. “I know… I know it wasn't the first time he'd ever went for a snack run in the middle of the night. When I went to wake him up in the morning he was already gone, and…” She trailed off. Jeremy noted her voice had gotten slightly unstable, and he felt a pang of guilt. 

They sat in more silence, which reminded Jeremy of him and Michael's exchange yesterday to an uncomfortable degree. 

“Do you have more questions?” Felisa finally asked, her tone steady again. 

“Yeah, um,” Jeremy paused, scanning through his brain for words. He remembered something weird, and grasped at it. “Earlier in the week - maybe, maybe Thursday? Did he come home from school, like. Disheveled?”

“Do you mean the bruise on his face?” Felisa asked. Jeremy nodded, and heard her sigh. “He wouldn't tell me how it happened. Insisted he just tripped, but…” She bit at her lip, eyebrows furrowing. “Do you… Know anyone who would do that?”

Jeremy shifted uncomfortably. He never liked informing any adult about the bullies at Middleborough High, because all instances of tattling had lead to everything getting worse. He snitched on another guy at their school once, when he and Michael were sophomores, for shoving Michael into a set of lockers. After getting reprimanded, their classmate - Toby Sharpe - responded by cornering them both with his friend group after P.E., and beating the hell out of them. 

He really, really didn't have the heart to lie to Felisa, though. Not now. 

“I… I have a few hunches,” Jeremy said, weakly. His phone suddenly buzzed in his pocket, although he was certain he'd turned the vibration off before he came - and when he briefly checked it, he found he had no new notifications. 

He felt his stomach turn.

Then, he discreetly pulled the white cord out of his phone, and turned back to Felisa. “Sorry, that wasn't important - um… I say a few, but, really, we weren't  _ lacking _ in, in tormenters-” this time, he heard soft static from his headphones. He swallowed, ignored it. 

“What do you mean?” Felisa asked, leaning in. 

“Uh… Michael and I weren't really-...  _ aren't,  _ very popular,” the static raised slightly in volume, “the polar opposite, actually. We get picked on a lot.” He wanted to add that that was putting it mildly, but both the static increasing and the look on Felisa's face made him bite his tongue.

“I'm -  _ what?  _ Why have neither of you ever said anything? How - how long have you been having problems?”

Jeremy shrunk in his seat, regret churning in his chest, but he couldn't stomach lying to her. “I can't remember school without it,” Jeremy mumbled, gripping at the edge of his seat nervously. 

“How bad was it? The way you put it you make it sound like just playground teasing but - I can't believe that, not with that bruise and not with-” she sucked in a tight breath, and Jeremy knew exactly what she meant. He stifled an urge to whimper in response, needed to find  _ words.  _

“It… Pretty bad. It's still…” Yesterday's encounter still stood fresh in his memory, and suddenly he couldn't hold it back. Felisa was staring at him with such great concern, and Jeremy never realized how much he wanted an adult to  _ care _ about the shit him and Michael had gone through on a near daily basis before then. 

He spilled forward with the example, only omitting the incriminating details of the white headphone cord, and then kept going, rambling on with bottled up events. 

The static from his headphones was as loud as if he had his phone on over half the volume now, but he couldn't stop - tripping over his tongue as his brain kept cycling through locker shoves and intimidation tactics and slurs hurled at the both of them, the social exclusion and getting cornered on more than one occasion to get used for punching bags and-

“ _ Jeremy. _ ”

It took a moment for Jeremy to realize Felisa had said his name… And, that she wasn't across from him anymore, but had moved to his side somewhere in his confusing explanations and had her arm around his shoulders, was rubbing his arm soothingly. He took a shaky breath as he looked to her worried, serious face, his vision blurry with tears he hadn't realized were there when his eyes met hers. 

He really didn't want to cry. 

What he wanted to do was backtrack however possible, get rid of any possible consequences of his spilled secrets. 

What he ended up doing was shooting forwards to hug Felisa, heavy sobs shaking his entire body while she hugged him back tightly, rubbing his back.

The static died off.

Jeremy felt a pang of guilt - Michael was  _ watching _ him right now, sobbing and getting comforted by  _ Michael's _ mom, and the thought made Jeremy sob even harder. He could barely breathe through the overwhelming emotions, sealed away all throughout the years. 

“Breathe,” Felisa muttered softly over his shoulder, pressing her palm down firmly between his shoulder blades. The weight helped Jeremy obey, shakily following her lead as she breathed in, held it, and breathed out, until he could do it by himself. He let go of her again, leaning back and rubbing at his eyes. Felisa didn't leave his side, looking up at his face with those eyes. Those eyes that looked so much like Michael's, but so different. 

“You good?” She asked, carefully. Jeremy nodded. She put her hand on his shoulder, squeezed it gently. Paused, considered him. “...I think you would do well with a nap. You look like you haven't slept well, lately.”

“Okay,” Jeremy said after a moment's consideration, voice croaky. She smiled lovingly at him as she stood up again - she had been crouching to calm him down - and stepped back. 

“I can get the guest bed ready for you-” 

“Can I sleep in Michael's room?” Jeremy broke her off, without thinking about it. He startled at his own words - “I-I, I mean, it's what I'm used to, and…” He couldn't come up with any better reasons. He just missed it. More than his heart could bear.

There was silence, for a few moments. 

“Of course,” Felisa finally said. “Finish your tea, first - it'll help you sleep.”

Jeremy felt relief wash over him, and nodded obediently, shifting to get comfortable on the bench again and sip at his cup. It was lukewarm on the edge of cold by now, but he didn't mind. Felisa sat back down across from him to finish her own mug.

Jeremy felt the calming effect of the drink hit him rather quickly - or, maybe, he was just exhausted, after all that crying. Either way, it gave him the ability to think clearer, and bite at his lip as those thoughts turned to Michael. 

He hoped Michael wouldn't mind…  _ Any _ of what just went down too much, but by his spirit influencing Jeremy's headphones, he doubted it. Jeremy was getting very excited for that nap. 


End file.
